


A Dime A Dozen

by Kienova



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Call the Midwife, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Ambiguous Pairings - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Smut, fanfic prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: Various fanfic prompts from tumblr. Single pairing per chapter unless otherwise specified.





	1. Turnadette – “You’re a monster!”

**Author's Note:**

> Turnadette - "You're a monster"

He’s let his temper get away with him without warning; self-deprecation swallowing him whole until he lashes out, unable to contain his emotions anymore. He doesn’t mean to direct his anguish towards her. Doesn’t mean to spit the vitriol that he does, but he sees the moment the words hit her; vowels and consonants lashing against her harder than a physical altercation would. She squares her shoulders, jaw clenching for a moment before she snarls at him.

“You’re a monster.” The words instantly impact him more than he could imagine, all the fight draining from his body as he sinks down into the nearest chair, head in his hands. “Is that what you want me to think of you Patrick?” she demands, crossing to kneel before him. He doesn’t dare look up, self-loathing consuming every iota of his being for making his wife consider such a thing.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to keep from breaking down in front of her. He’s so angry at the restrictions of his job. Of medicine. Of what he is able to do in order to help his patients and what he cannot perform. He is no miracle worker, and it breaks him. He hears Shelagh sigh, her hand coming to rest on his knee, delicate fingers playing with a stray piece of thread on his trousers.

“Patrick,” Shelagh starts, voice level despite the ire he can hear lurking beneath. Her patience astounds him each and every day. “I... I spoke out of anger. I don’t think such a thing of you. I never could,” she whispers, stroking his knee. “But I do think you need to find someone to speak to if you’re getting this agitated whenever you can’t help a patient. I am always here to listen to you Dearest, but... I don’t always know how to help. And I don’t want your fury to reach Timothy or Angela.” He winces, realising how easy it would be for their children to witness such a scene, instantly regretting every decision he’s made since returning to the surgery.  

“Alright,” he agrees, swallowing hard as he dares to look up into the eyes of his wife. She no longer looks agitated but instead sad and resigned, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “I’ll speak to someone. I promise.” She smiles softly at that, rising and pressing a kiss to his forehead before heading to the door.

“Take a few moments to get yourself sorted before coming home. I’ll go get tea started.” He watches her go with his heart aching. She’s right. He does need to speak to someone. He doesn’t want to fall into the rabbit hole of depression again. Not if he can help it.


	2. Turnadette - "I fucked up"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnadette - "I fucked up"

“Shelagh?” Patrick asks, coming into the kitchen with a worried look on his face. His wife doesn’t turn to greet him, slamming another dish into the sink with more vehemence than is necessary. “I fucked up,” he offers, having received no additional reaction from her. She snorts, another plate clinking into the water.

“Damn right you did,” she snarls, running a clean glass under the tap before dropping it on the drying board. Patrick winces, treading carefully across the tiles.

“I’m trying to fix it,” he continues, taking in her posture and trying not to cringe as he hears glass smacking against the sink.

“No bloody idea how you’re going to manage that,” she mutters, sniffing slightly. Edging closer, Patrick holds the parcel in his hands out to her, trying to use it as a peace offering as his wife’s blue eyes finally flicker up to take in the sight before her. She blinks, scrubbing the back of her hand over her nose as she tries to sniff back the angry tears that had been falling since she banished him from the house nearly an hour before.

“I bought the right kind of biscuits this time,” he says, shaking the packet to draw her attention to it. Shelagh lets out a watery laugh, frowning at him for only a moment more before wiping her hands on her apron and accepting the gift.

“Thank you,” she says, one hand rubbing at the small of her back while the other holds tight to the biscuit package as she wanders over to the table, sitting down with a sigh as she strokes a hand over her swollen belly. “I’m sorry the pregnancy is making me so daft.” Patrick shakes his head, coming to sit across from her at the table.

“It’s quite alright Love. I promise,” he assured her. Shelagh blushes slightly before reaching for the biscuits and quickly devouring three of them. Patrick chuckles before getting up, wandering over to the sink and rolling up his sleeves.

“I’ll finish the dishes in a moment Patrick,” she calls, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I’m quite happy to do them. It’s the least I can manage for bringing you the wrong biscuits.”


	3. Turnadette - "This is why I fell in love with you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnadette - "This is why I fell in love with you"

“This is why I fell in love with you.” The words were said so softly that she almost missed them, his gentle timber carrying them across the room. Looking up, Shelagh found Patrick leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a soft look on his features.

“Because I can tidy a room?” she offered in reply, chuckling as she finished making their bed.

“No,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Because no matter what’s going on, you take so much care with everything and everyone.” Shelagh raised an eyebrow in confusion, silently prompting him to continue. “When Timothy scraped his knee, you made sure not only to take care of him as a nurse, but to make sure he was well tended to. I was drowning in work and my own mind and yet, you had the ability to take care of my son where I couldn’t. And, in turn, you took care of me.”

Shelagh blushed, looking down at the edge of the duvet as she tucked it under the pillows, glancing up at her husband from beneath her lashes as he crossed the room, coming to stand next to her a heartbeat later.

“Well I couldn’t very well let poor Timothy bleed all over,” she muttered, shaking her head as Patrick wrapped an arm around her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek and gently force her gaze to meet his. 

“You saved me that day Shelagh,” he breathed, voice soft. “You made me realise that I needed to care about things again. About people. You made me realise I wanted to. And that I wanted you by my side while I did so, because you became one of the people I desperately wanted to care about.” Patrick smiled at her, easily meeting her lips when she stood on her toes to kiss him. 

“I love you,” she murmured, lips still pressed against his. 

“I love you too,” he replied, tugging her just a little bit closer before sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. Shelagh let out a squeak at that, laughing as she found her husband quickly depositing her on the bed. 

“Patrick! I just made the bed!” she protested with a laugh. 

“I’ll help you make it again,” he responded, crawling on top of her and kissing her deftly. “I’ll even try to care about it as much as you do.” Unable to resist him, she giggled, twining her hands in his hair as she pulled him into another kiss. 

Their clothes ended up in a much messier state than the bed.  


	4. FitzSimmons - "Put me down!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzSimmons - "Put me down!"

“Fitz!” Jemma screamed, her arms snapping around his shoulders as she felt herself being scooped up off the ground, her ankle, still throbbing in pain, no longer attempting to take any of her own weight.

“Jemma –”

“Put me down!” she rushed, trying to swat at him and wriggle out of his grasp at the same time.

“Jemma, no. Stop squirming,” he countered, frowning as he took a moment to get his balance before he started walking, carrying her towards the plane. He had seen her fall from across the field, a look of agony crossing her face before she ended up in the grass, scrambling away from her attacker as best she could while on the ground. He knew she hadn’t meant to twist her ankle, but he had instantly felt nauseous with fear, his hand whipping up until he shot the other man in the back of the head with his ICER, watching the thug land a mere foot away from the English woman. She had blinked up at Fitz in shock when he rushed to her side, his eyes scanning her body for all of a split second before he had her in his arms. 

“Fitz, I’m fine, put me down,” she urged, trying once more to get out of his hold but failing miserably. 

“D’you need any help?” Trip called from where he was jogging towards them. 

“We’re fine!” Fitz yelled back, trying not to grind his teeth at the assumption that he couldn’t even help Jemma back to the plane on his own. Trip threw his hands up in surrender, a smirk playing on his face as he turned back to help Coulson. 

“Fitz -”

“Look, Jemma, you’re obviously in pain. I saw how hard you went down. Just let me help you, alright?” Fitz said, exasperation seeping into his voice. Looking down he found her brown eyes gazing up at him, a strange expression on her face. 

“Okay,” she acquiesced, voice suddenly quiet and gentle in the summer sun, her eyes dropping to the ground as she let her head loll against his shoulder, the grip she had on him becoming more relaxed as he continued to cross the field and moved onto the ramp of the plane. May stood in the cargo bay, a smirk on her face. 

“FitzSimmons. Everything alright?” she asked, voice not giving any emotion away. 

“Jemma’s hurt her ankle,” Fitz said just as Jemma interjected with “I’m  _ fine _ .” May shook her head, turning towards the stairs. 

“Get her onto the sofa. I’ll get you some ice.” The pilot called, already disappearing. Jemma looked like she wanted to protest but sighed, allowing Fitz to carry her up the stairs. It was only once she was on the sofa that she took stock of the throbbing in her ankle, Fitz’s gentle hands prying off her shoe and sock to reveal the swelling that was already starting. May dropped the ice pack into Fitz’s waiting hand a moment later, the engineer carefully arranging it on Jemma’s skin before he elevated her foot. 

“Is that alright?” he asked quietly, watching Jemma’s expression. She nodded, hissing slightly as she tried to move before she gave up, flopping back against the sofa cushions. 

“I guess it does kind of hurt a bit,” she muttered, fidgeting with a loose thread on her jumper. Fitz reached up and caught her hand in his. 

“We’ll get you sorted, don’t worry,” he assured her, the hand that wasn’t twining with hers absently rubbing at the sore joint, his fingers playing over the soft skin of her ankle. 

“You going to carry me everywhere if we can’t?” she asked in jest. 

“Always,” Fitz answered, voice more serious than Jemma anticipated. When her gaze flickered to his face, she saw the sincerity there and an emotion she had never recognized on him before. Without thinking about her actions, she leaned up, gently pressing her lips against his. When she pulled back a moment later Fitz’s eyes were wide. Smiling, Jemma lay back down, keeping Fitz’s hand in hers. 

“Thank you.”   


	5. Turnadette - "If you're bored, wanna have sex?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnadette - "If you're bored, wanna have sex?"

“Ugh!” Shelagh groaned, flopping back onto the sofa. Patrick chuckled at her, watching the way she stared at the ceiling.

“Everything alright my love?” he queried, trying to suppress the grin as his wife kicked at a pillow.

“I know we said it would be nice to have a weekend on our own with the children at Granny Parker’s but Patrick... without work or the children... I hate to confess this, but I am utterly bored,” Shelagh answered, frowning at the bellowing laugh that filled their parlour in response from her husband. “It’s not funny.”

“Shelagh, you and I barely have a moment to sit still most days. The weather is appalling outside, the children are being entertained elsewhere and, for once, we don’t have to be rushing off for a baby to be born or something at the parish. Just relax,” he urged her, looking back down at his newspaper.

“You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit bored as well,” she countered, sitting up to look at him. He shrugged, paying her no heed as she fidgeted about, his eyes skimming the football scores.

“I suppose just a little bit,” he agreed, frowning at the state of Chelsea’s standing.

“If you’re bored... would you like to have sex?” Shelagh offered. Patrick nearly choked on his tongue, not used to his wife being so verbally forward in the middle of the day. Dropping the newsprint on the ground he looked up, only to find that she was toying with the third button on her blouse, the top two already undone. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find his voice.

“I... would not be opposed to such an idea,” he agreed, standing up so that he could advance on her. Shelagh giggled, letting out a scream when he swept her off the sofa, carrying her towards the stairs.

“Patrick!” she laughed.

“Must cure that boredom Shelagh, its extremely important,” he grinned, kicking the door shut behind them as he walked them to the bed.


	6. FitzSimmons - "Can I touch you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzSimmons - "Can I touch you?"

His movements were hesitant and stilted, fingers trembling slightly as they rested against the thick denim of his trousers, eyes fixed on the woman who perched upon his lap, her lips red and swollen from the kisses they had been sharing for the better part of an hour.

“Hi,” Jemma said, grinning as she leaned back just far enough to look him in the face, her hand stroking over the stubble that was on his cheek. Swallowing hard, he chewed on his lip for a moment before answering.

“Can - can I touch you?” Fitz inquired, trying not to wince at how insecure his voice and the question it posed sounded. Instead of mockery, Jemma’s expression softened as she ducked down to kiss him again, squirming slightly until her hips moved forward, fixed directly against his a moment later. He tried not to moan, but failed miserably, his body reacting to her proximity as he pushed up towards her, his hands finding their way onto her waist a split second later.

“I was hoping you would,” she murmured against his lips, rocking against him slightly. Fitz tried to stifle the groan that wanted to break out of his throat at the movement, his hands playing over her skin then. One stroked up the front of her body, slowly coming to rest over her breast while the other cupped her backside, holding her tight to his groin. Squeezing at her breast gingerly, he couldn’t help but push up against her, head spinning at the whimper she released at the friction it caused.

“This okay?” he questioned, feeling her nipple harden beneath the fabric of her blouse and bra. She responded by grinding down against him.

“Yes,” she breathed, nuzzling her nose against his. “You... can you... harder?” she muttered. He did as she asked, increasing the pressure of his hands until she was kissing him again. Moaning into his mouth, she wrapped her legs around his waist, so consumed by sensation that she barely noticed he was moving until she found herself on her back, his body pressing down on hers as he stayed between her thighs, one hand now braced against the sofa cushions while the other remained on her chest, trailing up and down her ribcage.

“This okay?” he asked, voice coming out in rough pants as he ground down against her. Jemma nodded, whimpering.

“Keep touching me,” she begged, hands tangling in his hair as she dragged his lips back to hers.

He didn’t need her to tell him again.


	7. Ambiguous Pairing - “Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambiguous Pairing - “Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

She’s was grinding against his leg as they kissed, her touch becoming more frantic by the minute. They’d already made love once that morning, having elected to stay in bed longer than either normally felt necessary, the sun slowly coming up until it spilled through the gauzy curtains, painting their skin in warm pinks and golds. 

“Already?” he asked, voice teasing as it rumbled out of his chest, still thick with sleep and disuse. “Do I really have that much of an effect on you?” She responded by biting at his shoulder, a breath huffing out of her. 

“No,” she groused, moaning when his hands found their way to her ass, gripping her cheeks and rubbing her more tightly against his thigh, the skin quickly becoming slicked with her arousal. “It’s my damned hormones.” 

“You wound me,” he countered with a chuckle, letting her shift herself in small circles, her body craving release. Sensing her urgency, he moved one hand from her backside to her clit, rubbing it as she ground against him, her hips hitching as she crashed into an orgasm, her back arching as she shook through it. 

“Oh!” The word fell from her lips as if by accident, her body having surprised her with how quickly she came. Slowly, he moved his hands to her back, stroking up and down her spine as she melted against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin as she panted. 

“Alright?” he murmured into her hair, kissing the crown of her head as he posed the query. 

“Mmhmm,” she replied, yawning as she gave the affirmative. He chuckled, cuddling her close. “First I’m constantly craving sex, then I’m constantly exhausted. How am I supposed to cope with this for another four months?” she groused sleepily, eyes already fluttering closed. 

“By having tons of sex followed by an equal or greater amount of sleep,” he grinned, helping to lay her down as he rubbed his hand over her swollen belly. 

“You’re still going to have ridiculous amounts of sex with me even when I’m the size of a house?” she asked, blinking her eyes open for a moment to look at him. Leaning down he kissed her, keeping a hand on her stomach. 

“I will always love you and I will always want you. No matter what. Even if you do end up absolutely huge and unable to see your feet or get off the sofa on your own,” he added the last bit with a grin, laughing as she slapped his bare chest. 

“No more sex for you today,” she grumbled even as she snuggled into his side. 

“Yes Love,” he agreed. 

“That was probably a lie,” she added around another yawn a moment later, a pout on her lips as she remembered how insane her libido had become since she entered her second trimester. 

“I know,” he chuckled, laying down next to her. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too. Get some sleep. We’re going to need it for the next round.” 

“Ugh.”    


	8. Elliot/Olivia - "We can't do that here!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot/Olivia - "We can't do that here!"

His lips are on her neck when she recognises the noises she’s making, her breath catching in her throat just as his teeth graze the skin where her pulse races.

“I want you,” he growls, hands clinging to her hips as he backs her up against the door, the latch clicking into place a second later as he brands her with tongue and teeth, one hand going to her belt while the other reaches up to loosen his own tie, the silk hitting the ground a second later.

“We... we can’t – oh God – do  _ that _ here,” she whimpers, panties already soaked through as he manages to drag the metal from the leather of her belt buckle, swift fingers quickly delving into her dress pants before they press against her sodden centre through the damp fabric.

“Why not?” he questions. She can hear the grin in his voice as he pushes a finger beneath the hem of her underwear, tracing circles on her clit before edging forward and allowing himself to breach her. She can’t help but gasp at the sensation, her hands going to his shirt as she unbuttons the Oxford before shoving it off his shoulders, shaking hands gripping his biceps and pressing into the dark ink that adorns the left.

“A-anyone could hear us,” she rebukes, knowing the tiniest bit of resolve she has left is already crumbling as he works his hand between her legs, her own yanking his pants open before she shoves them down just enough to release his erection.

“And yet,” he teases, nipping just behind her ear as he drags her trousers down and off, hoisting her up of the floor a split second later, her legs instantly around his waist as he presses her into the door.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, gasping as he enters her without preamble, rocking against her.

“Mmm,” he smiles, kissing her as her nails scratch against his shoulder. “You feel so good Livvie,” he breathes, drawing a moan from her as he hits a sensitive spot, her back arching as much as it can.

“Elliot, please,” she groans, rolling her hips against his as his pace increases, his hands on her thighs as he pulls her tight against him with more urgency, his eyes meeting hers in the dim lighting of the room, the empty cots behind them casting shadows on the floor as the streetlamps attempt to break through the gloom. He manages to thrust into her just right then, stars exploding behind her eyes as she shatters around him, body nearly convulsing with pleasure. He follows a moment later, his growl of release echoing around the concrete and plaster as he holds her to him, panting into her neck.

They stay pressed against the door for a few more minutes before she wriggles out of his grasp, sweat cooling on her skin as she winces, bending to grab her trousers from the floor before dragging them back up her legs. He watches her with amusement, tucking himself back into his pants before accepting the shirt she offers him from the floor. She waits until he’s dressed, dragging her hands through her hair to try and straighten it, before she reaches for the door. He stops her, his large palm covering hers as her fingers grip the still body-warm metal.

“Elliot?” she asks, looking up at him, heart pounding at the look that she sees on his face. Gently, he bends down to kiss her, thumb stroking her cheek as he cups her face in his hands, his touch soft.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning back to look at her as he says the words. Olivia blushed, ducking her gaze before she lifting her eyes back to his.

“R-really?” she questions, voice timid. Grinning, he nods, pecking her again.

“Yeah, Liv, really.” She smiles, letting his hand settle onto the small of her back as he leads her back to the bullpen. If Fin or Munch suspect anything, neither comments on it.


End file.
